


let them be merry

by Zofiecfield



Category: The Haunting of Bly Manor (TV)
Genre: Canon Compliant, Christmas, Christmas Fluff, Domestic Fluff, Feelings, Fluff, Gen, Not angst but definitely feelings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-26
Updated: 2020-12-26
Packaged: 2021-03-10 19:54:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,453
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28332687
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zofiecfield/pseuds/Zofiecfield
Summary: Dani and Jamie attempt to find a Christmas tree, but hit a bit of a snag.  (One last little Christmas ficlet.  Surely, it's still Christmas somewhere.)
Relationships: Dani Clayton/Jamie
Comments: 14
Kudos: 80





	let them be merry

_December 1988_

“I think we should buy a Christmas tree,” Dani said, a few weeks before Christmas, sidling up behind Jamie at the sink. 

“Oh, do you now?” Jamie asked. “And where would we put this Christmas tree? Bit low on space here, I’m afraid.”

“We’ll make room,” Dani said, winding her arms around Jamie’s waist and pressing light kisses to the back of her neck. “Last year, well, we sort of let Christmas pass us by. I want to celebrate this year.”

Jamie turned in Dani’s arms, resting back against the sink and drying her hands off on her pants. She tugged Dani against her by the belt loops, smirking. 

“There are lots of ways to celebrate, Dani. No massive piney decorations needed.”

Dani chuckled, relenting into the pull. She settled against Jamie, who grinned and slid one hand into Dani’s hair to cradle the back of her head. 

“Lots of ways to celebrate,” Jamie murmured, leaning in to kiss the corner of Dani’s mouth, excruciatingly lightly, before beginning a slow and steady path along Dani’s jaw.

“You’re very persuasive,” Dani managed between unsteady breaths as she clung to Jamie’s shirt for dear life while Jamie nipped at her earlobe. “But think of how much more fun this would be under a Christmas tree…”

Jamie spun them, pressing Dani into the sink as she brushed her lips down the length of Dani’s neck. One kiss to the notch of Dani’s sternum for good measure, then she pulled back to consider Dani closely. 

“This really matters to you, doesn’t it?” Jamie asked, reading the answer off Dani’s face. 

She leaned in and kissed Dani softly, just once more. “Alright. Let’s go get a tree.”

They drove to the tree farm on the edge of town, sprawling acres of pines.

Dani hurried into the field, her sights set first on this tree, then on that one. Jamie, hack saw slung over her shoulder, followed gamely behind. 

Each was a fine specimen, handsome and perfect in Dani’s eyes. 

But Jamie shook her head again and again. This tree wasn’t quite right, nor that one. Too bushy, she said, or too thin. Too short, too tall, too bare, too full, too grumpy, too preppy, a bit too pretty. 

Just not quite right. 

They laughed as they debated in good humor, but on and on they went, and still no tree was granted Jamie’s approval.

After two dozen trees denied, Dani spun around, hands on hips in fond exasperation. 

“Jamie, these can’t all be wrong! If you don’t want a tree, just be honest! It’s fine with me, really.”

Jamie shook her head to deny, a chuckle ready on her lips to laugh off Dani’s worries. _Just picky, Dani! Be patient with me – I can’t help it. This is what you get for falling for a gardener!_

But instead of a chuckle, instead of a joke and an easy slide onwards, Jamie found her eyes slipping from Dani’s. 

Unexpected.

As her gaze slid away, Jamie caught sight of the little snag at the back of her heart. 

A little snag, the one she’d willfully ignored all morning as they traipsed through the field, because Dani had wanted this and that mattered. 

A little snag, or perhaps, not so little.

_Oh._

The thought caught Jamie unprepared, snuck up behind her and pounced to level her. She felt tears prick at her eyes and panic surged up her spine.

Dani watched her, brow furrowing. 

“Jamie,” she said softly. “What’s wrong?”

“They aren’t ready to be cut,” Jamie said to the ground, surprising herself. 

Unexpected, but true. 

Cutting down one of these trees, still so young, still so green, made Jamie feel a bit sick, a bit dizzy to think of it.

The weight of the words, of the thought, was too sad, too heavy, too entirely out of place in a day that had started with easy kisses against the counter with this woman she loved so dearly.

“Oh, Jamie,” Dani hummed, as her heart shivered, tugging Jamie in by the collar of her jacket. “You could have told me.”

“I didn’t realize until just now,” Jamie said. “We were laughing, and then-”

Dani nudged Jamie’s chin up gently, and Jamie reluctantly met her eyes.

There, Dani saw it all. 

Familiar, all of it, but so rarely allowed on the surface.

The heft of time passing. The unrelenting tick that settles too deeply into the brain, until the body learns to live and move and breathe to its metronome.

The crushing relief of each new day, which comes without fanfare, without any acknowledgement of its cruelty, of the reality that it could be the very last.

The recklessness of this all, to love and accept love in spite of the unknown that weighs so heavily. Bold and reckless, this twinned gift and sacrifice, this trust that they’d cut themselves open to offer.

Dani placed a hand over Jamie’s heart, in lieu of the contact they both desperately needed.

“Let’s go home,” she whispered. “We’ll give them more time.”

“No, no, I’m being silly,” Jamie said, too thin to suffice, shrugging off the softness. “Dani, you wanted a tree and-”

Dani shook her head and reached out to squeeze Jamie’s hand. “I only want you. Nothing else. Just you.”

With that, she marched off towards the entrance, leaving Jamie’s heart sputtering in her wake. 

“Come on,” Dani called over her shoulder. “I’ll buy you hot chocolate and a pretzel.”

Jamie smiled a little, weary though it was, and followed Dani out of the field.

Just before they reached the parking lot, Jamie stopped suddenly. She reached out and yanked Dani to a halt by the back of her coat. 

Dani turned, ready to reassure or console. But, to her surprise, she found Jamie beaming broadly.

Jamie pointed over Dani’s shoulder.

“That one, Dani. That’s the tree for us. That one is ready to be cut.”

At the far corner of the field there was a tree twice the width of the others, save for the large section halfway up that was nothing but naked branches. The bottom third was just trunk, pitted and pocked. 

A bare behemoth misfit, towering over its neighbors by several feet, its peers long since felled by the saw. 

The tree had lived a life, it seemed. It had fought battles and won many, had stories to tell, had earned its graying needles and its scars.

“Looks like it would appreciate rest and a little glamor,” Dani said, chuckling, “but there’s no way we can fit-”

She looked at Jamie’s face and the chuckle died on her lips. 

Jamie, gleeful now, was not joking. Not in the least.

“Jamie! It’s the size of our apartment!” 

Jamie grinned at her. “It’s perfect. And it’s ready. Come on.”

The tree, hauled home in a fit of giggles and lost branches, consumed half the living room. 

They had pushed all the furniture to one side, abandoning functionality all together, and still the tree ate up every spare inch. A hungry beast.

Eventually, with much cussing, a precarious climb up a stack of chairs, a broom, and some duct tape, the bulk of the tree was vertical and stable. 

Well, vaguely stable, anyway. 

The top foot of it sprawled merrily across the ceiling, raining down needles from above, and whenever Dani or Jamie bumped the tree in passing, the entire contraption swayed ever so slightly.

They surveyed their work and decided to be satisfied.

The job well enough done, Jamie dragged herself to the kitchen to forage for sustenance to soothe hungry bellies while Dani fiddled with the radio.

Jamie returned a few minutes later with a tray of tea, the whole tin of sugar cookies, and bowls of leftover mac and cheese.

Dani was sitting cross-legged on the floor, head bent low, engrossed in a tangle of lights. A dozen strands in a hundred knots. 

She worked through them one by one, with no visible progress, singing along with the Christmas songs on the radio under her breath.

Unnoticed, Jamie leaned against the couch to watch, loving Dani more and more with each moment that passed, if that was possible.

This – the tiny apartment and the ridiculous tree and Dani singing softly to herself – this was perfect. 

And Jamie wanted more time.

A lifetime of moments like this. A lifetime of Christmases beside Dani. A lifetime the way the songs mean it - years and years and years. Old and grey, beside her. 

One Christmas would not be enough. Nor two, nor three, nor twenty.

Jamie wanted more time.

Dani glanced over her shoulder, catching Jamie lost in thought. 

She tilted her head and smiled softly. 

“Jamie,” she said quietly, tugging Jamie gently back to her. 

And then Jamie remembered, like she did every single time Dani looked at her like that, every time Dani said her name.

No amount of time would ever be enough. 

But whatever time they had, each and every moment, could be everything. _Had_ to be everything.

This – the tiny apartment and the ridiculous tree and Dani looking at her like that – _this_ was everything. This was a lifetime.

One Christmas, if that’s what they got. Just tonight, just now, just this moment. 

Not enough, not nearly enough, but an entirety in itself. 

A lifetime tucked into a moment. A novel tucked into a poem.

Jamie set down the tray down and settled beside Dani. 

“Hey,” Dani whispered, resting her palm on Jamie’s knee to anchor. 

“Hey,” Jamie whispered back as she leaned in to press her forehead to Dani’s. “Hey.”

By the time the sun gave up and slid below the horizon, the tree was lit up in all its glory. 

Well, sort of lit, anyway. Lit enough. 

The tangle of strands had defeated Dani and Jamie fifteen minutes in. They had emerged with only a single strand intact and fully extricated. Considering it a conciliatory gift from the Christmas spirits, they had strung it on a wide diagonal across the massive beast, and the tree wore that single strand proudly.

Dani and Jamie lay side by side in the bare expanse underneath the tree, hands intertwined, gazing up into branches speckled with lights above.

Jamie ran her thumb in slow strokes across Dani’s.

Dani looked over at Jamie, who turned to meet her. 

They could have spoken of all the things resting between them, the light and the sorrow, the joy and the grief. This life they had built together, not yet ready to be cut.

But instead, they shifted towards each other and picked up where they’d left off that morning.

Palms warm on skin and tongues well occupied in celebration.

This Christmas. This moment. This kiss. Each worthy of celebration, each an eternity in itself.

Later, as she ran her fingers along Dani’s bare back in lazy strokes, Jamie stared up into the tree.

“Dani, today at the tree farm when I – when we – well. I have an idea, for the shop,” she said, apprehension lingering on the edge of it. 

Dani shifted to see her face, waiting. 

“Come on,” Dani nudged after a moment.

So, Jamie told Dani her plan, still in its infancy, only just beginning to form. As she spoke, Dani smiled softly and pressed her lips to Jamie’s sternum.

“Yes,” Dani said, when Jamie had finished. “Yes. Next year. We’ll do that, next year.”

_Next year._

Not a promise, not even a wish. 

Just a quiet recognition of the day to day, of the plans to be made in bold defiance of their uncertainty, in bold defiance of time and its transience.

_Next year._

_December 1989_

“I think I’ve done it right this time,” Jamie said, holding up a small triangle of paper between two pinched fingers, knuckles white. “I think this will be the best paper snowflake ever to be cut.”

Dani, chuckling wryly, set down her own work to watch as Jamie carefully unfolded the paper to reveal a dozen or so asymmetric scraps.

“Oh, no,” Dani hummed, in sympathy, trying and failing to hide her smile.

“ _Fuck,_ ” Jamie hissed, laying her forehead on the table for a moment. She dumped the scraps onto a pile of their kin and flopped back in the chair.

“Well, that’s it for me.” She pushed the stack of papers towards Dani and tugged a bowl of popcorn towards herself. “I’ll go back to stabbing my fingers with a needle. Better than murdering snowflakes.”

Dani, a neat army of miniature paper cranes lined up in front of her like good little Christmas soldiers, shook her head and squeeze Jamie’s forearm. “You can’t do that either. You got blood all over the last strand and we’re running out of popcorn.”

“But I have armor now, “Jamie said, showing off her fingertips, all but two of which had been wrapped in Band-aids.

Dani nudged her under the table with her foot. “Go start decorating. I’ll finish this.”

By the end of the morning, The Leafling was ready for the Christmas season. 

They had advertised in their shop window all fall, and the local paper had written a little interest piece on them a week or two ago. 

The shop wouldn’t open for another hour, but already, there was a gaggle of little old ladies peering in through the shop window and a little girl with her face and palms pressed to the glass.

The Leafling had been transformed. 

Small white fairy lights strung across the ceiling, dozens of paper snowflakes hanging low. Christmas music played softly in the background and the smell of pine and cinnamon was everywhere.

Among the traditional offerings of deep green poinsettia, bursts of mistletoe, and wreaths of all sizes, stood rows and rows of pots, wrapped in silver and gold. 

The pots and their merry occupants covered two long tables and much of the floor space of the shop, leaving only narrow paths winding between.

Bushy pine yews and delicate Norfolk pine, no more than two feet tall, wrapped in strands of cranberries and popcorn. Fragrant rosemary trees, hung with tiny paper cranes, and young evergreens to be planted in the ground come spring. 

A field of tiny potted Christmas trees, living and breathing and well, ready to see this year’s holiday, and next year’s, and the next and the next. 

Dani and Jamie stood back to admire their work. 

Dani bumped gently against Jamie, sighing happily at the sight. Dani glanced over and caught the tear in Jamie’s eye, glinting in time with the soft smile on her lips.

“I love you,” Jamie said quietly, reaching out to squeeze Dani’s hand, just for a moment. “You know that, right?”

Dani squeezed back, knowing perfectly well.


End file.
